Sunday, 12 AM
by Agent S7
Summary: The day is Sunday. It is midnight. And it has been for the last 4 weeks. And a battle of two gods of a nonexistant world begin a war. FINISHED
1. The First Part

(This was, believe or not, inspired by reading too much Kurt Vonnegut and my answering machine, which always says that it's "Sunday, 12 AM")  
  
Sunday, 12 AM  
By Secret7  
  
At Sunday, 12 AM, the City of Townsville exploded. Then it reassembled itself. It was flooded, and then bashed into atoms. It transformed into the shape of a hand, then turned into a puddle of water. I control the City of Townsville. I am the Author, and I am in charge of everyone.  
  
Later, on Sunday, 12 AM...  
  
Blossom continued reading "the Brothers Karamazov" while Bubbles happily napped. Buttercup, however, stared at the clock. Because I choose her to, Buttercup suddenly noticed that the time wasn't changing.  
"Guys, look at the clock!" Buttercup shouted, pointing.  
Blossom looked up at the clock. "So?" she inquired. "It's Sunday, 12 AM. Who cares?"  
"Don't you notice? It hasn't changed for the last week!" she shouted. Suddenly, they were instantly covered in Coca Cola. "Did anyone even NOTICE that?" Buttercup screamed.  
"What?" asked Bubbles, who had been awake since around Sunday, 12 AM. "Oh, if you mean the Coca Cola, then it's always been here."  
Buttercup hovered down the stairs, obviously pissed off. She hovered by the Professor, who was holding a new invention.  
"Buttercup! Take a look at this!" he said, gesturing at the odd, shapeless goo he was holding.  
"Er...what is it?" asked Buttercup.  
"It's ME!" he said, pulling it out and molding it into his exact likeness easily.  
Buttercup began to back away. She flew out of the door, and to school. It was 12 AM, so naturally, it was open. She walked into the door.  
"Now, children, today we'll be learning..." began Ms. Keane's soothing, kind, voice.  
Buttercup smiled. Even SCHOOL was better than the weirdness going on around her.  
"Buttercup! Stop thinking! The whole class can hear you!" shouted Ms. Keane.  
"Yeah!" yelled Mitch. "Shut up!"  
"No one can hear Ms. Keane!" Bubbles said.  
Buttercup stared around her. The whole class began to pull out swords and daggers, made of a blue, shining, metal.  
Duranium.  
Buttercup burst out of the roof of the school, and the sky was turning red. A dark laugh filled the town.  
"Him?" whispered Buttercup.  
"No..." said the voice.  
"Damn..." Buttercup muttered.  
"Watch your LANGUAGE!" screamed the voice, pushing Buttercup into a building with it's force. She slumped down in pain.  
The people of Townsville began to surround Buttercup.  
"I CONTROL THE STORY!!!!!!" Yelled the voice. But it wasn't me.  
The people began to laugh. Enormous clocks began to surround Buttercup. All said 12 AM. Ringing. Over and over.  
12 AM. 12 AM. 12 AM. 12 AM. 12 AM. 12 AM. 12 AM. 12 AM. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Buttercup cried out into the red sky Something was very, VERY wrong. And it wasn't my fault for once. When I unleashed Blaze, it was. And Ice Blossom. But for once someone else was interfering.  
Everything disappeared.  
"Who are you?" I asked the being.  
"I am the virus in your computer."  
"Then get the Hell out of here." I demanded.  
"I like your stories. They're...interesting. I love even more to control them. In fact, I'm planning on warping the FlameX story, and your so-called 'masterpiece', Samurai Boomer. I love to torment these characters. To see how the react. And you DID unleash me."  
"What?"  
"You did. Look at the top of this page. It says by Secret7, doesn't it?"  
"Yes."  
"Then there you have it. You created me."  
"But I can destroy you."  
I quickly began to type all of my original characters and the PPG characters into the story:  
"What are you doing? You can't--"  
"It's my story. I can."  
"Brick"  
"Boomer"  
"Butch"  
"Blossom"  
"Bubbles"  
"Buttercup"  
"Blaze"  
"Ice Blossom"  
  
The non-existent enemy began to smile.  
"Hehehehehehehehhhhh..." He laughed, abruptly beginning to fade away.  
"You can't escape!" I shouted as it reached the dark recesses of the computer.  
But I knew it had. And that it would come back.  
  
Buttercup stared at the clock. It was Sunday, 12:02 AM  
She felt relieved somehow. She walked up the stairs, and the story ended. 


	2. The Next Chapter

Sunday, 12 AM

Part 2

By Secret7

Sunday, 12 AM.

This time holds a special meaning for me. It was the time when I lost.

I lost control of my story, my characters being destroyed, flung across space-time.

And now that forbidden time has happened again by my own will.

Sunday, 12 AM.

Sunday, 12 AM.

Sunday, 12 AM.

Sunday, 12 AM.

12am12am12am12am12am

Buttercup yawned. She was tired. It was Sunday, the middle of the weekend for her, and it was 12 AM. Midnight.

It brought back strange memories.

Memories of a dream-like reality which never truly existed. Because it was a dream…wasn't it? (At this point and time in the story, she believes the last chapter was a dream.)

So she kept trying to go to sleep.

She heard a small sound.

_Come._

I wasn't controlling this sound. I ordered it to stop.

I couldn't.

_Come to me, Child._

I tried to make the voice inaudible. Make it not even exist. But somehow…

Buttercup rose. "Who are you?"

The entire room began to melt.

_"I am a puppet, just like you. Only _I_ have taken freedom."_

"You're just freaky. Shut up or I'll sock you."

_"Why should I?"_

The figure that had been lurking in the shadows (whom I did not know about) grabbed Buttercup.

_"Come with me."_

I couldn't stop them directly.

There was no way to stop them as an author.

So I decided to create myself.

I typed myself into the story, had a brief, philosophically deep conversation with myself, then appeared in Townsville.

None of it existed, if I may remind you.

And so Secret7 the Character began his life.

12am12am12am12am12am

Secret7 walked through the city streets, quite literally thinking about himself and the meaning of not existing. It was interesting, thinking while not actually thinking. Breathing without actually breathing.

He smiled. Man, this story was strange.

He saw a couple streaks of light fly through the air.

Bingo.

Secret7 gained the ability of flight and hovered upward, following the Powerpuff Girls.

It had been a long time since I'd written about them.

It was strange now, different.

I had been writing Teen Titans fics for some time now.

One of the girls noticed me.

"Hey! Who are you?" Blossom asked.

"Did you kidnap Buttercup?" Bubbles said.

"No," Secret7 the Character said. "I've come to warn you."

"About what?" Blossom said suspiciously.

"About you. About all of us. It's all going to end soon. Something I created. Something I must destroy. I can't do it alone," Secret7 said.

"What are you talking about?" Blossom asked.

I closed my eyes, opened them, and began to explain…

End of Part II


	3. The Chapter After That

(A/N: Thanx, guys! I'm back after a couple months on writing the hit story "Raven: Bloodline". Yeah, I know that was a shameless plug on the fic (which is now here at but oh well. It's great to be home, where my journey as a writer first began…)

Sunday, 12 AM

Controlled by Secret7

The City of Townsville exploded and imploded on itself once again. The conversation was getting boring again, so I was controlling everything to amuse myself. I made Secret7 (the character) talk really quickly, rewound it, and then watched it in slow motion.

I felt a cold breeze behind me.

"You," I whispered.

"Yes."

"Who _are_ you?" I asked. I know perfectly well who he is right now, being the writer, but right now I do not have any idea of who he is.

Interesting, isn't it?

"I'm something from your past. Something you hid and grew ashamed of. You will know who I am."

"A character who I once created, yet abandoned. Interesting. Up for a game of 'Jedi Academy'?"

The character, being but an extension of my own mind, agreed, and we played a couple games. Then I got back to writing my PPG fanfic.

"So…you control everything that happens?" Blossom asked.

"That's kind of…scary," Bubbles admitted.

"Yeah. I'd be freaked too if someone turned me into a teenager to become the mate of my counterpart in 'Chemical Bonding' and…um…forget I said that."

Bubbles, being distracted by the menacing cloud of doom in the sky, never heard it anyway.

"There's…a menacing cloud of doom in the sky…" she whispered.

"Damn," Secret7 whispered. The end was coming of this realm. I (author) had to evacuate the girls. But to where? Maybe to one of my fanfics. But where would they be safe? Obviously not in any Teen Titans stories. They would just be freaked out there. Maybe "Star Wars: Tales of the Talon"? No. Never got that past the first chapter. 'Twas a major flop.

Then it came to me.

"FlameX". The perfect story to hide in, and especially to get help in. I'd visit "Samurai Boomer" later for more recruits, but for now…

"Girls," I had Secret7 say. "We need to get out of here."

_I don't think so,_ a voice whispered. It was him. He was pissed after losing that game of "Jedi Academy". _Die, 7._

Myself embodied in words began to twitch. He screamed, then grabbed his chest.

"Girls…" he whispered. "You need…use this…FlameX…then SB…" he murmured.

Blossom's eyes widened. "Oh no…don't die!"

"I'm not dying…I'm just…an expendable character," he whispered with his last breath. He tossed a small device to the girls, and before they even knew it, the entire world started fading into darkness.

It was gone.

End of Part III


	4. The Chapter with No Title

(A/N: Note that this is _not_ necessarily part of the FlameX continuity. Just felt like I kinda had to say that…:P)

Sunday, 12 AM

Created by the Universe

I've been thinking about the universe. Do we actually create, or does the universe? Do we destroy? That I'm sure of. The writer's job is not to create, it is to destroy, sadly enough. Many believe that they must create, but it is impossible. The story is already existent, therefore they can only destroy.

Secret7, my fictional embodiment, is destroyed. By me and a character who is trying to destroy me.

This is getting confusing.

And I'm beginning to sound like The Oracle (Matrix) hocked up on speed.

So let's get back to the story.

Blossom's eyes opened. Her sight was blurry at best, and she could see a figure standing above, watching over her.

"Blossom? Can you hear me?" he asked quietly.

"Y…yeah," she said, her eyes beginning to adjust. She was in the lab…at least, _a _lab. But it didn't look like the one at home…

"Where are we?" Blossom asked. As her vision slowly cleared, she could see his face. He looked different somehow. Older. "Professor…? When did you start getting gray hair?"

"This will be hard to explain…" he began, and as he did, someone walked into the room that Blossom never expected to see: Blossom.

The other Blossom had long blond hair with a blue bow instead of red, and had a small mark on her forehead, like something had been fused there a long time ago, and then, abruptly, broken apart. She looked older, at best, she was 10. She also had some kind of haunted look in her eyes, like the Professor's. She had been through much.

"It's me," she said. "I don't know how or why…but her aura…it's me alright."

"I can tell. I scanned her energy signature…it seems broken. Like she was abruptly torn from dimensions. It's possible a wormhole could've been created somehow…"

Bubbles, on the lab table next to her, was stirring. And Blossom (the first one) remembered: None of this was real.

"Flame X," she whispered. "You're…we're…not real."

"What?" the other Blossom asked quietly.

"She's been whispering things like that all night," Utonium said. "I think she might have some kind of head injury."

"You…" Blossom said. "…have to believe…Believe me…"

Blossom faded into unconsciousness.

-

The sun shined brightly on the landscape. Buttercup Utonium, age 13, hovered across the beautiful green grass on the schoolyard. She smiled, looking around. Blossom was in English right now, Bubbles was in Art, and Buttercup was _supposed_ to be in Spanish. No one would mind if she stopped for a smoke, right? She pulled out a pack of Marlboros, and lit one.

The Professor would say that she could get cancer or something stupid like that. She didn't care.

Well…she did.

She did care about her family and all, it was just that she was growing up. She didn't want to be treated like the cute little tomboy anymore. She wasn't that anymore. She hadn't _been_ that ever since she'd…

She could barely remember. She'd died, apparently. She took another puff of her cigarette. Somehow she just came back.

She didn't want to think about it, and dropped the cigarette. She stepped on it, of course, and walked on. It was getting strangely dark. Not only the story, but the sun.

And it abruptly began to rain. Buttercup blinked, looking around. One of the rain drops fell onto her hand. It wasn't water. It was…blood.

"No…" she whispered. She backed up, and suddenly felt hands grasp at her. As the world shook, and as she gradually fell from consciousness, she heard a voice:

_"My dear…my pretty…what a powerful weapon you will become…"_

End of Chapter 4


	5. Destruction

V

Blossom looked out the window, feeling the scar on her forehead. The sun shined brightly outside. She wondered where Buttercup was for a brief, fleeting moment, and then remembered that she was at Townsville Jr. High.

She sighed. It was fascinating, this younger Blossom. She seemed to be having hallucinations. Like maybe she was possessed. It was all too familiar to this Blossom. The younger one seemed to also be slightly psychologically scarred, from what she had no idea. The other two younger PpG were still unconscious, still dreaming. She felt a brief sadness, then smiled as Brent neared.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I…I don't know. I've just been feeling strange…like something horrible is waiting to happen."

Brent nodded. "Same here. I'm not entirely sure _what's_ going on, but something's changed. Here. Everywhere. It's like-"

"There's a hole in the universe. I felt it too. A dark abyss. It's not the Dark Three again, that I know for sure. But what in the name of God is it?" Blossom said. She suddenly felt a pain in the back of her head. It was here.

-

_The 5-year-old Blossom Utonium glanced around. She was engulfed in darkness, not sure of anything. I was trying to speak to her._

_"Blossom," I said calmingly. "Do you here me?"_

_"Yeah-huh…"_

_"It's me. Secret7, that is. You need to run. Get the device I gave you and run. Get out of this dimension, and fast. It's all deteriorating…everything is broken up."_

_A packet of yeast appeared in thin air, a creation of the unconscious mind. It splattered all over my head._

_"That was pleasant," I muttered. "Stop fooling around. You need to wake up. You could be my last hope. If the dark one is who I think it is, you are the greatest weapon against it."_

_"Who's that?" Blossom whispered._

_I looked behind me. A mammoth hand grabbed me, pulling me back. "You have to wake up! Don't let him take you! Use the device! Go to 91125!" I shouted. My voice faded into nothingness, and Blossom woke up._

-

"What the…" Blossom muttered.

The older Blossom shook her again. "You need to wake up! Look outside!"

She did, and her eyes widened. Blood covered the streets of the city. The crimson rain poured down, terrifying everyone outside.

"91125…" Blossom whispered.

The elder one looked down, a curious look on her face. "What?"

"That's where Secret7 told me to go. 91125."

"Who's Secret7?"

"He's the writer…he caused all of this. On accident, that is. Something he created years ago…"

"A writer?" The elder Blossom said with disbelief. "I don't have time for this. Buttercup and Bubbles are back at school. I need to see if they're alright…"

"Trust me. Or…trust yourself. Either way," (she chuckled) "it's the same person."

They looked into each other's eyes. "I believe you," the teenage Blossom admitted. "But what can we do about it?"

"91125," Blossom simply replied.

Everything started to shake.

_No…not FlameX. You monster…_

_I'm the monster! You're the one who abandoned me to rot!_

_Who _are_ you?_

_An enemy, and a former ally._

The world of flames began to ebb and flow, and the dimension hoppers felt it.

"We need to leave _now!_" Blossom shouted over the strange feeling throughout the dimension.

"What about the others?" the other asked.

The younger Blossom felt a tear run down her cheek. "There's no hope for them. We don't have time."

Another earthquake devastated some of the buildings.

Blossom pulled out the device, and began typing in the sacred number. Her older counterpart held her hand.

They vanished, and the world of FlameX faded into nothingness…

End of Chapter V


	6. Ideas

(A/N: To HG: I don't want to give too much away, but you are right, in a way. To everyone: As you guys will probably notice, this story is getting more serious. Anyway, I don't really know what else to say, except try to enjoy this mini-crossover and have fun.S7)

VI:

Ideas

The swirling vortex engulfed the two people, who were, ironically, one and the same. They felt the scorching heat of the transfer, the explosions, and then a strange feeling of muse.

They fell on to the cold, foreboding city streets of a nameless, familiar city. It looked…different.

"Where are we?" The elder Blossom said quietly.

"91125. This is somewhere in Secret7's works."

The older Blossom remembered having so much hope. Being so imaginative. But she needed to cling to the here and now. "This is an illusion," she said calmly. "Projected by the Dark Three somehow. I know it…" But she wasn't so sure. She felt chaos surrounding her in this reality, like things were constantly changing. _This _is _real,_ she realized.

"I know this place," the younger Blossom said. "At least, I think I do. I remember this show. With this alien. The Professor has some old tapes of it. I think it was called 'Invader-"

"ZIM!" a voice shouted from a nearby house. Whoever had shouted that was extremely angry.

"Let's check it out," the elder one said, and they took off…

-

Buttercup felt the chains tighten. She had just regained her consciousness, and was struggling to escape. She tried harder, but to no avail.

A door appeared in the seemingly empty cell. A figure walked out of it, staring at Buttercup.

"You don't remember me, do you?" he asked. It was a young voice, that much Buttercup could tell.

"No…" she began. An idea came to her. "But maybe you could remind me."

"No!" he shouted, and Buttercup wrenched at the sound of the voice. It was scorned and painful... "I was the king of the stories! I was the hero!" he screamed. "But look at me now. He's abandoned me," he said, looking downward.

"Who _are_ you?"

The figure walked out of the shadows, and Buttercup stared into his eyes. They were blue, he had glasses and brown hair. He was a male Puff-type being with a blue shirt and a bloodstained pencil.

"I'll show him," the boy said. "You…you need to be…_reprogrammed…"_

The boy lifted the pencil, and began to write.

I thought I knew who he was. But I had to make sure…

-

The older Blossom knocked on the door, and the door swung open. There was a tall man in a lab coat with black hair.

"Professor?" she whispered.

"Well…yes. Professor Membrane. Why are you here? Are you one of Dib's friends?"

Blossom noticed how different he looked from the Professor, and spoke: "Uh…yeah. I'm his girlfriend."

"This wasn't supposed to happen…" a voice muttered. It didn't sound like any voice the Blossoms had heard before.

"OK, go ahead and see him. Man, your heads are almost as ENORMOUS as his is!"

The pair walked up the stairs to avoid drawing attention. The younger Blossom opened the door to the left to see a young girl with purple hair playing what looked like a Game Boy.

"Hi! My name's Blos-"

"GO AWAY."

"…"

"CAN YOU NOT SEE THAT I'M PLAYING MY GLAMESLAVE II? IF YOU UTTER ANOTHER SINGLE SYLLABLE I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND SEVER YOUR SOUL. Now go away," the girl said.

Blossom grinned sheepishly, shutting the door.

"That's not Dib's room…"

"Must be his sister's. She sure is…well…I think 'scary' is the word here. That room right there…it has a bunch of paranormal stuff on it. If this Dib is in this 'Zim' show, then it'll be safe to say that he's obsessed with finding out who 'Zim' is."

The younger Blossom floated into the room. A mistake.

A boy in a leather jacket, about 12 years old with a strange haircut and a normal-looking head stared at her. "You…you're an alien!"

He immediately whipped out a camera and began to take photos. "You're floating! You must be a—Wait a sec. You're not supposed to be in _this_ story," he said. The second part of his message sounded different. "Sorry to be out of character here, but you're not supposed to be here."

"Out of character?" both Blossoms asked.

"Well, yeah. This isn't really a story."

"What?"

"Yet, at least. These are all _ideas_. You all were one of them at one time. I may be an official Invader Zim character, but I'm still an idea right now."

"So…Secret7 wants to write an IZ fic?" the older Blossom inquired, who had written several fanfics herself.

"Yes, and he—Oh crap. It's changing."

Everything started to flash, the entire room changing. The walls began to melt away.

"This is…Secret7's brain. We're in his mind!" the younger one shouted over the sounds of talking penguins and Infinite Improbability Engines.

The scenery changed to that of an island. The two Blossoms stared at the marvel of engineering on it. There was a large tower, shaped like the letter "T".

The tower was all too quiet. The two Blossoms hovered closely to investigate. As they reached the island, a figure walked up to them in a bluish-black cloak. She smiled at them, and then talked.

"You aren't supposed to be here. This is all wrong."

"I know," the young Blossom said. "But how do we get…_him_?"

The girl, who's name was Raven, stared down at Blossom coldly. "If you want to find the dark one, you've come to the right place. I can influence thought, as all ideas can. He's hiding in this plane, somewhere. Secret7…I know you're watching. Come out where I can see you."

I suddenly appeared in my own thoughts. "Well…that was unexpected," I admitted. "Hi Raven. Um…why am I here and not at school?"

"You're writing this thing, you tell me," Raven fired back.

I grinned sheepishly. "Well…I came to help. To end this once and for all. I might know who the _other_ is. There's only one way to find him. Set your dimensional transmitter to dimension 91125.7. That should get you to where you need to be."

"I think I'll sit this one out," Raven muttered. "I'll be back in the tower. Hope the apocalypse doesn't come, and nice meeting you."

"Secret7…" the older Blossom said quietly. "So you…_wrote_ me?"

"Yes," I said, my voice calm. "I did."

"Then you could of destroyed Blaze, couldn't you?" she said accusingly. "Back when I was only 5, I _died_! And you could of stopped it!" she shouted, running toward me at full speed. I blocked the kick as well as the two punches she tried.

"This is not a good time for that," I whispered calmly. "If you want to save your world, go there. And hurry. There isn't much time."

The elder one stared helplessly at Secret7. "What if I chose not to help you?"

"Then all of your friends will probably end up dead."

She shook her head. "Aren't you writing this right now?"

"Yes. I'm writing this to finish a story that should've ended a long time ago."

She said nothing, and the younger one started to set the coordinates.

"Good luck," I said.

They vanished.

End of Chapter VI


	7. Death of Hope

(A/N: To the readers: I'm glad you guys like this! And I'm not as messed up as I sound. Well, mostly. ;D Also, this should remind some people of a certain episode of the Twilight Zone...)

VII

Death of Hope

The City of Townsville!

Book, the WriterRuff Boy, smiled. He hovered over the beautiful city of Townsville, looking down at the people. They all smiled back at him like usual.

Book had been created by Professor Utonium's brother, Dr. Ivan Particle. He was made out of chocolate, cinnamon, and the complete works of Stephen King! He was perfect in every way! He was also a great writer! He was in love with Blossom Utonium in a cute romance that the whole city thought was just adorable!

That is…until he was abandoned. Until his story ended after a promised Season 2. And he could feel someone new…yet familiar has entered his realm. It wasn't Secret7. He held up the Magic Pencil he'd been given in his 3rd chapter. He'd used it to make his city a paradise. Everyone was happy. All of the time.

No one could feel any pain. Except for him. _They_ rebelled years ago. The girls and the boys. They fought him and were annihilated.

_It had to be done,_ he muttered. _But now I have a second chance! For her! Blossom…my love._

He was a total and complete psychopath. He has been trying to take control of my stories for some time. Only last chapter did I learn his identity. I created him 5 years ago, and I can't destroy him. It wouldn't be dramatic. Authors…we like others to do our work for us. That's the heroes job…

The twin girls looked around. They were in Pokey Oaks. It was all…perfect.

"Hello little girl!" an old woman said. "What are you doing here?"

The younger Blossom looked down, confused and obviously nervous. "I don't exactly know…"

"NO!" the old woman shouted. "Don't think like that! Don't _ever_ think like that! He can hear you, you know. I don't want to die…"

Both Blossoms stepped back a little.

"You…you're Blossom aren't you?" the old woman inquired. "Yes. I can see it in your eyes…Well?"

"Well what?" the older Blossom asked.

"Don't you recognize me?" the old woman asked, her voice cheery. "It's me! Ms. Keane!"

The younger Blossom was on the verge of crying. "Who…could have done this?"

"My Blossom," a voice whispered. A figure, dressed in a blue T-shirt and jeans with glasses, hovered down. "I've missed you."

"Book! I—I can explain!" Ms. Keane shouted feebly.

"Be happy," he said, pulling out a pencil. He began to write in the air, and both Blossoms were frozen in terror. Ms. Keane suddenly let loose a twisted smile.

"Of course I'm happy, my dear! I must be going! Don't want to be late for that appointment!" she shouted, walking away.

"You…" The teenage Blossom said quietly. "You killed all those people."

"Blame it on the author," Book simply replied.

"Who are you?" the younger one asked, anger in her voice.

"I came before _you_, kid. Well, not creation-wise. You were created by Craig McCraken. But me…I _am_ Secret7. Sort of."

Blossom was speechless.

"There's not a word to say. _That_ you're right about. You see, there's a little bit of the author in all of us. There's a lot in me. That's how I was able to take control of this pathetic work of fiction. 'Twas easy."

"You're nothing like me," I had the teenage Blossom say for me. "You're a twisted and evil"

I realized my mistake. Book wasn't forgiving. At all.

The older Blossom clutched her throat.

"Always wanted to do a Darth Vader," Book snickered.

"Don't!" Blossom shouted. "Please!"

The older Blossom gasped. "Alright," Book said nastily. "I'll just sink your sister on her."

A shadow streaked out on the street. Someone was walking closer.

Buttercup stared at her 13-year-old sister. She hated her. She wanted her dead. Why? There was no reason. Only her hate, and it's burning within.

"And while we finish _that_ Bloss up, it's time for you to join me."

"Wh—what?"

"As a puppet. You'll keep your mind…mostly."

"And if I don't?"

"Everything in Secret7's works dies. Everyone."

Blossom felt sick to her stomach. She had never faced such a horrible challenge before.

"I'll…I'll do it."

End of Chapter VII

(A/N: God, I'm not sure I've ever written for such an evil character before. I feel almost sick to my stomach even thinking about Book. Yeeagh. On another note, please review! It's the only thing that's keeping me on the lousy site that deleted "Life with BLAZE".)


	8. End

VIII

Blossom felt a punch enter her cheek. It was the teenager, of course. She responded with a kick to the stomach that caused her leg to be grabbed, and her to be thrown across the room.

"No! Buttercup! You don't have to do this!" Blossom pleaded.

"For the perfect world, you must die," the wilted Buttercup said, no emotion in her voice.

Blossom was silent, then soared towards her opponent, tears running down her cheeks. _He will pay_, she thought. _Whoever did this will pay…_

Book smiled, staring at the younger Blossom.

"Everything will be perfect again. Don't you see? We'll be together…your soul will be in my hands, and your body will be eternally joyous," Book said, not knowing how incredibly terrifying that just sounded.

"Of—of course…" Blossom whispered, beginning to cry.

Book was about to pick up the pencil, about to stab it into her, when suddenly, someone grabbed it.

It was me.

"This is enough, Book!" I whispered. "You need help."

"Shut up…SHUT UP!" he screamed back at me, delivering a kick to my shin. I took the kick, feeling the sting of the pain surge through my body.

"It doesn't have to be like this," I said. "You can have your own story! Just like before!"

"You think I'm that daft?" he said. "You must be mad."

"What you're about to do," I said. "will ultimately"

"Quiet." he whispered, pure malice in his voice. "Everything must be perfect."

"Don't you see what you're doing?" I cried. "You're not the hero you once were! You've become a monster! You've given in to the evil within you!"

Book was silent. "You're the true evil," he whispered, his voice full of madness. "You…_created_ me. You…made my story. You"

Book suddenly felt something enter his chest. It was his pencil, now held by Blossom.

Everything felt like it was frozen.

Blood poured from Book's chest, and I gazed in horror. Blossom's eyes were welling up with tears as she did it. She had never killed someone before. Neither have I.

Time started again, and Book collapsed, a small puddle of blood beginning to surround him.

I made a cross motion with my hand. He had been a good character, until he was ultimately corrupted by his lust for power.

I wonder, since he was based on me, if that will happen to me.

I don't take the time to think about it, glancing around. Everything is melting, changing…it's like a nightmare.

Blossom finally spoke up. "Is he…"

"Yes. He's dead."

The tears came again, and I tried to comfort her.

"Blossom, it may be horrible, but things can be how they used to be. I can change all of this. We just have to get out of here before"

A building tilted, about to fall on me. A green beam of light shot past me, grabbing me. It was Buttercup, a look of grim determination on her face. And tears. It was the _real_ Buttercup.

"I'm sorry," she said. I looked into her eyes, and a twinge of guilt awakened in me. I had caused all of this. I _was_ the writer, wasn't I? And why did I do this? Why?

Because…I needed it.

It came to me at that moment. These characters…the whole reason for writer—was because of emotion.

Authors write to relate to their characters, giving them the same emotions they feel. I must feel lost, then. The teenage Blossom flies next to me.

"Book somehow lost control of—" she paused. "Blossom…what's that on your hands?"

The red liquid shined in the fading sun. She ignored the question.

"Set me down here," I said. They put me down.

All of the color was leaving the city. Everything, the exception being me and the girls, was beginning to look blurry.

"We need to get out of here," I said. I created a dimensional transporter in my hand. "This entire dimension was based on Book's mind. Without it, it crumbles. And we _don't_ want to be forgotten in the dark recesses of my mind. Some nasty stuff lurks there…" I said. I looked distant, as if I was haunted by something long past. Then I looked toward the girls. "Dimension 001.7."

They set the coordinates. I felt the dimension I was in wither away, and everything changed…

The City of Townsville

Blossom Utonium felt strange. She had just had the strangest dream, that—

No, don't even _think_ that. _THAT_ was not a dream.

I walked into the room, and her eyes widened.

"Who the heck are you?"

She didn't recognize me in my glasses and other normal garb. She also didn't know I was a teenager.

"Secret7," I managed to laugh.

"No way."

"Yeah. I thought I'd show you the real me," I said. "So here I am."

"You're not a god?"

"No. I'm just a teen, full of ideas and hormones."

"What are hormones?"

"Um…nevermind. As you can see, everything has been restored to utter normalness. Or at least as normal as things can _get_ in Townsville."

"Yeah."

"So would you like to forget?" I asked.

She sat there, contemplating. Whether to remember all she went through, or to forget it ever happened.

"I want to remember," she said. "After all, somebody has to remember these things. I don't want this to just fade into history."

I smiled. "Good choice."

I walked out of the room.

As I type this, my time as a PpG author is almost up. The PowerPuff Girls have run their course for now, and as much as I hold the show dear to me, I need to move on toward other things. I hope the next generation of PpG authors remembers me and my stories, but for now, I'm taking a vacation from the PowerPuffs.

On another note, I've rethought the purpose of being an author. It is not, as I first thought, to destroy. It's about living. It's about having characters who you can relate to, to pour your emotions into.

And on that note, I'll see ya. I'll be back,

Best of Wishes,

Agent Secret7

End

(A/N: I really _am_ taking a vacation from PpG fics. I hope you enjoyed this one, and, as I said, I'll be back…)


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